Perspective
by ViralBannana
Summary: Just a few short stories from the perspective of different people in the world of Guild Wars.
1. Chapter 1

_It's a damn cold night hunting minotaur out here in the Shiverpeaks, a cold night that's only made worse by the fact that the approaching storm has driven the driders down from the higher parts of the mountain. Minotaur are bad enough, unwary travelers caught of guard could be swarmed and torn to pieces in under thirty seconds. I would know I've had my share of accidents. That's not to say I'm not good at my job, I just get restless and so would any other poor slob that had to do this. Between the silence that seems to fill this desolate part of the mountain and the isolation of this particular job, one's mind starts to wander aimlessly. _

_Anyway as I was saying, Minotaurs are bad enough but driders are certain death even to a seasoned professional. More than a few fool hard adventurers have met a bitter and untimely end thanks to them. It's always best to avoid the little blighters at all costs, but the weather was making it rather difficult and it hadn't even gotten bad yet._

_A storm was approaching, slowly but steadily, already there was a light snow falling from the heavens. In the next hour, maybe two, it would turn into a full out blizzard, and as much as I love my job (and I use love in the loosest of terms) I didn't want to be puttering around out here when it hit. My employers would be angry sure, but the dwarves are a forgiving bunch, minus the stone summit of course. Eventually after a few pints of dwarven ale (on me naturally), we'll all have a good laugh about things, blame the weather and our own bad luck and once the storm clears I'll be back out there doing what I love, battling a frenzied host of loud and smelly beasts in the freezing cold for their horns and hide. _

_The snow is coming down harder now, so if I want to get to shelter I had better get going now._

A solitary figure walked in silence through the secluded region of the Shiverpeaks known as Anvil Rock, the only sign of his passing were the footprints he left behind and even they quickly disappeared, buried beneath the snow of that fell heavy to the ground. "This keeps up and I won't be able to see my own hands in front of me, much less the road." He thought grimly. The wind was picking up and he pulled his cape close to shield himself from it. Not that it helped much.

Another strong gust tore through the branches of the evergreen trees around him, blowing snow from their bowed limbs. Then for a brief moment all was silent and in the distance he heard a sound he knew all too well, well enough to avoid anyway. It was the hunting call of the shiverpeak centaurs. "_Blasted horse men must be here for the drider hunting_." He looked from left to right, squinting to try to see any approaching threat but to no avail. He tried listen for their horns again but there was nothing. "_Just my luck_."

He quickened his pace as he continued onwards towards shelter quietly bemoaning his situation to no in particular. "I would be the one to get stuck in a blizzard in the middle of no mans land with nothing but frostfire driders and friggen horse men all over. Oh, and then there's the stone summit, minotaur, and wolves."

There was a noise behind him, so faint he almost hadn't heard it. Gripping his staff he prepared himself for the worst, he turned to meet his attacker but all he saw was the tip of an arrow as it made its way towards his chest. He felt his body go limp and fall to the cold ground and as he laid there drifting into oblivion he thought he heard someone say something, something along the lines of "Oh shit I think you killed him". Then there was darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chaots to the left of me Axe Fiends to the right but am I complaining, no, I'm having the time of my life stuck here in a cage with a pessimist mage named Errol and a rather stoic ranger named Erius all thanks to my two friends who miraculously managed to avoid captivity unlike myself. Not that it's going to help me much; I doubt either of them will come back for me. They're good people, but they're cowards. _

_Oh well, I always did want to go out as a fiery effigy to a primitive god and be placed at the fore front of a bestial siege army. In fact my drill instructor always said it was the best I could ever hope for._

"You really shouldn't pace like that." Fey shot a look over her shoulder at the man who had addressed her. Erius was his name, he was a ranger with the ascolon army who had been one of the few fortunate enough or perhaps unfortunate enough, to be taken prisoner instead of killed when the charr attacked. "It makes them uneasy."

"Good." And with that she resumed her pacing. She was angry. Angry and hurt that her fellows would abandon her to the charr and run to save there own hides. "_So much for being a team_." She though bitterly. She had known Blaire and Swift since she was a child. They had all grown up together in Ashford. It was hard for her to believe that they would abandon her when she needed them most, and it was even harder to accept but here she was in a cage while they were off hiding who knows where.

With any luck one of them, "_hopefully both of them"_ she thought, made it back to the wall or maybe even Fort Ranik. With any luck reinforcements will be on the way to get them out of here. But if she had any luck left it wasn't helping her now because it seemed like the charr were getting ready to move out and from all the commotion it didn't seem like they where too happy about taking them along.

"This doesn't look good. I guess our stay here is finally coming to an end." The other occupant of the cage spoke up. Fey grimaced, it's not like Errol had done anything wrong, in fact he was probably quite right but she'd be damned if she was going to accept death as easily as he had.

"_Lord, it sounds like a full out riot over there."_ Maybe lady luck decided to give her a helping hand after all she thought. If the charr were fighting amongst themselves this would give her, Erius and Errol a chance to escape. Of cause the blasted cage was constructed rather solidly and with no weapons they wouldn't be able to do much. Fey shook her head in defeat, there was no way they were going to manage to break out of the cage, secure weapons and fight their way through the remaining charr army or anything else that stood between them an safety. Taking one last look towards the charr camp Fey smiled as the most wonderful sight in her life was making its way up the river bank towards them. _"Lady luck saves the day again"_ She thought to herself and started to laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

He never did like big cities. Too many buildings, too much noise, and too many damned people. At a glance one would think that the whole of Cantha's populace was located right here in the Kaining Center, but in actuality it's markets were also teaming with a large amount of adventurers, sight seers and merchants from Tyria and Elona. Not that it was really any different in any other port city, on a good day Lion's Arch could be filled with hundreds of people from all over the world seeking fame, fortune, and of coarse adventure.

Everyday a new group was born it seemed, another self righteous band of fools seeking to make a name for themselves through whatever means. Everyday a new wave would come into the Center, plying their trade to anyone interested and move on, only to be replaced the next day by another group. Some were motivated by greed, others by power, hell some were only in it for the killing. Occasionally one might cross paths with a few motivated by the actual desire to do good but they were few and far between, and getting fewer everyday.

Whatever your reasons one could find work here in the Kaining Center. It was a thought that was both intriguing and confounding at the same time but never really surprising. This was a big city after all, always growing, swelling with life and ready to burst at the seams, yearning to expand. It was a monster of man's making, and like any monster it hungered, swallowing the naïve and the weak, chewing them up and spitting them out as mere shadows of there former selves. Some got smart, some got killed. Either way they were never the same.

"Some got smart…" He shook his head. Forcing the thoughts back into his subconscious, back were they belong. His was a past that did not need to be dwelt on. "The past is past, better to forget." This was something he had to remind himself of on several occasions. In his line of work one couldn't afford to let his mind stray, he had to stay focused, observant. A moment's hesitation or panic and it was over. This was a lesson you lean quickly, because as an assassin you either got smart or you got killed.


	4. Chapter 4

"How easy it is for mortal men to live in blissful ignorance. To believe their own self righteous lies. But I have seen through the veil! I have seen with my own eyes the truth. Repent! Cast aside the fetters of ignorance…_" _

The old man certainly was drawing a crowd, he had to admit that, but then again promises of salvation always do. From where he was sitting perched atop an old wooden crate at the far side of the plaza Luis Craven could see the growing crowd of people coming to hear the old beggar's sermon. Some looked on half amused, others with hope, and some with a manic sort of adoration.

"People sure will believe anything." Craven couldn't help but grin. Where else in the world will you ever see the wealthy upper class rubbing elbow with the homeless and poor but in a tiny little plaza listening to the ravings of a madman, searching for some sort of salvation. "It would be comical if it weren't so damned sad."

The truth was that nothing could save them. Not money, not faith and certainly not some crazy old beggar. When death came, there was nothing come hell or high water that was going to stop him. "_Or his lowly servants_." Craven mused. He pushed himself off his makeshift chair and made his way down a small side street. It was filthy and dark, just the way he liked it. He made his way forward without hesitation, ignoring the occasional sidelong glances from some of the cities more unsavory populace and turned left into a small alley, barely noticeable, tucked away between two ramshackle buildings.

It was quite here, almost tomb like, his footfalls echoing softly on the solid concrete. He made his way along guided by the meager light that managed to make its way in passed the dirt caked windows of the homes that this lonely crevice was pinched between. He didn't need the light to see where he was going; he already knew his path and his destination.

There she lay at the far end of the alley huddled under ragged, filthy blankets. As he approached he saw how her body trembled, whether it was from the cold damp air or pain, he couldn't tell. He heard her harsh breathing as her lungs struggled to take in another breath. Slowly he kneeled next to her, her one good eye rolling upwards toward him. She was beautiful once but a lifetime of hardship had taken its toll and the plague stole that which was left. Her gaze met his and in it he could see the fear but there was also resolution. She was prepared, as best she could be at least, for what was to come.

"Rest now, your suffering is almost over." He whispered. He locked eyes with the woman one last time then closing his eyes he bowed his head and placed one hand on her forehead the other over her heart. He could feel her life draining away, her heart slowing, then stopping. Sighing he pulled the blankets over her face and made his way out of the alley, back into the noisy city streets.


End file.
